


Call Security!

by DeathBelle



Series: Shopping Mall Shenanigans [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: First Dates, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings, Unrequited Crush, at first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-04-19 17:26:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14242221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle
Summary: Oikawa Tooru is attractive, charming, and irresistible.He thinks so, anyway, until he meets the mall's new security guard.In which Oikawa has a crush, Iwaizumi has no interest, and a chain of shoplifting incidents brings them together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the second installment! I'll keep the update schedule consistent and post a new chapter on the first Saturday of each month. 
> 
> If you haven't read the first part of the series, you can still read this one without it. It should stand alone just fine.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Oikawa Tooru didn’t mind retail work. In fact, he excelled at it. He was friendly, charming, and had never received a single customer complaint, unlike some of his less socially adept coworkers. Even so, the noise and the constant socializing could sometimes be exhausting.

He slipped into the storage room and plopped onto a sturdy stack of boxes, leaning his head back against the wall and exhaling in relief. As soon as the door had swung shut he’d been met with complete, blissful silence.

He closed his eyes and tried not to think about what a mess his store was, or how many more customers there would be before the night ended, or how quickly this five minute break would end.

He tried to think about absolutely nothing.

The door swung inward, slammed against the wall, and the horror-story soundtrack of a busy clothing store bled into the storage room. 

“Oikawa-san,” said Kageyama from the doorway. “I need you on the sales floor. One of the customers-” 

“Can you not see I’m on my break?” snapped Oikawa, flooded with an entire day’s worth of pent-up frustration. “All I want is five minutes of peace. Is that really too much to ask?”

“But the customer-”

“Out,” said Oikawa, pointing at the doorway in which Kageyama was already standing. “Get out, Tobio-chan. Don’t talk to me until my break is over.”

Kageyama looked uncertain, balanced on the unsteady edge of obeying his manager or plowing into his crisis anyway. 

At length he nodded once, still conflicted, and withdrew.

He didn’t close the door behind him, and Oikawa still heard the chatter of voices, the scrape of metal hangers, and the distant beep of a register.

Oikawa pressed his palms against his eyelids and tried not to scream.

Though his break was ruined, he was too stubborn to give in and go check on Kageyama’s problem. He sat on that box until the last possible second, fuming. When the five minutes ticked away, he stood up, brushed himself off, and forced an often-rehearsed smile onto his face as he stepped back out into the store.

Oikawa had worked at Aoba Johsai Fashions for nearly four years. He’d gotten the job halfway through his final year of high school, been promoted to manager a year later, and planned to stay there while he worked his way through college. It wasn’t a bad job, all things considered. The hours were flexible with his class schedule, he got a significant discount, and it was part of his job to boss around Kageyama on a daily basis.

All in all, it was a good setup.

On occasion, however, things became a little strained.

Kageyama was near a display of overpriced jeans, fidgeting and being generally unproductive.

There were customers nearby, so Oikawa kept his smile in place, even though he feared it would crack his face like shattered glass. “What did you need, Tobio-chan?” he asked with a toxic edge of sweetness.

Kageyama twitched, startled by his approach. “Oh, umm… you know those shoes that came in yesterday?”

The statement was extremely vague, but Oikawa did, in fact, know which shoes he was referring to. They were platform stilettos with straps and rhinestones and a price tag that made him cringe. “What about them?”

Kageyama shifted a look around the store again. “About five minutes ago, someone stole a pair of them.”

Oikawa waited, because surely Kageyama wasn’t finished. There had to be more to the story; a punchline, for example, that would excuse the abhorrence of this conversation.

But he knew Kageyama wasn’t capable of making jokes, and he felt the same frustration from before surge into scalding anger.

“Someone stole the Morino heels,” said Oikawa, his voice surprisingly steady. 

“Yes.”

“Someone stole the shoes worth more than eight of your paychecks, and you’re standing here gawking like an imbecile.”

Kageyama blinked, bewildered by the insult but not offended. “What was I supposed to do?”

Oikawa’s initial response was _stop them_ , but the policy stated his employees weren’t allowed to interfere in these sorts of situations. That was the purpose of security.

Speaking of security, Oikawa saw no telltale uniforms swooping in to save the day.

“Did you call security?” said Oikawa, the question sliding through the clenched teeth of his painful smile.

“You said if there was a problem while you’re here to tell you first and you’d take care of it.”

“You didn’t tell me!”

“I tried but you said you were on a break.”

“Someone stole the Morino heels!” said Oikawa, too loudly. “That’s a big deal, Tobio-chan!”

Kageyama’s blank expression didn’t change. “That’s why I was trying to tell you about it.”

“I swear, I- Dammit, go call security,” said Oikawa, giving him a brisk shove toward the counter. “Tell them it’s an emergency.”

Kageyama scurried off without complaint, and Oikawa had to offer a smile and a greeting to the pair of women who’d stopped to stare at their snappy exchange.

Oikawa was going to kill Kageyama. It was a miracle it hadn’t happened already.

He slipped through the racks and took a step into the broad, tiled corridor, peering back and forth for a familiar glimpse of rhinestones.

He saw nothing, of course. If it had happened five minutes ago, the thief was already long gone.

“Dammit,” hissed Oikawa under his breath. He stalked toward the registers, where Kageyama was speaking into the phone with a frown and Semi was bagging a customer’s purchase. 

“Here you go, sir,” said Semi, sliding the bag over. “Thanks for shopping with us. Have a great day.” He made a face that fell somewhere between a smile and a grimace. It seemed to be the best he could do, and Oikawa often wondered how he’d gotten stuck with such sour-faced employees. 

There was no one else in line, so Oikawa stomped over and slapped his hands down on the counter in front of Semi, who didn’t flinch. “Did you know about this?”

“The thing with the shoes?” said Semi, raising a single brow. “Yeah, Kageyama told me.”

“Why didn’t you do something about it?”

“He said he was going to tell you,” said Semi. “What was I supposed to do about it? You’re the one who told us to go to you before calling security.”

“I was on a break!”

“You don’t think this is more important than your break?”

“They’re sending someone,” said Kageyama as he hung up the phone.

It was fortunate that he’d chosen that moment to interrupt. If he hadn’t, Oikawa may have slammed Semi’s head against the counter.

“Who?” said Oikawa.

“They didn’t say.” 

“Probably Ushiwaka,” spat Oikawa. He clenched his hands against the edge of the counter hard enough to ache, then spun on his heel and stalked toward the back of the store. “I’ll start pulling video. I want him out of here as soon as possible.”

His employees said nothing, nor did he expect them to. 

Semi was competent, and he had to admit that Kageyama wasn’t horrible, but still he often considered trading them in for someone a little more personable. Oikawa could be friendly enough for all three of them when he needed to be, but it was draining.

He yanked a crowded keyring out of his pocket, let himself into the back office, and kicked the door shut behind him. It was a cramped room, reminiscent of a small broom closet. There was only a desk, an extremely outdated computer, and a couple of filing cabinets. Typically the store owner was the only person allowed to access the office, but Oikawa had been given permission to use it in emergency situations.

He considered a stolen pair of 200,000 yen shoes to be an emergency.

Oikawa booted up the computer and slumped over in the desk chair, resigned to wait for a short eternity while the operating system warmed up.

He thought that such a successful business could afford a better computer, but he supposed it wasn’t his place to complain. The old computer could access the store cameras – slowly – and that was all that it was really needed for.

He swiveled back and forth in the desk chair, trying to burn off some of his pent-up frustration. Dealing with Ushijima on a good day was infuriating. Talking to him like this, when Oikawa’s temper was already climbing a steep ladder of disaster, would not end well.

Six minutes slipped by. Oikawa counted them by the ticking hands of his watch, which he’d gotten for half price the year before. It was a little large and a little flashy. Oikawa adored it.

There was a knock at the door, heavy and solid. 

Oikawa took a bracing breath, told himself that he was not going to raise his voice, and said, calmly, “It’s open.”

Despite the mental preparations, he still inwardly cringed when the door opened and a muscular physique topped by broad shoulders stepped through.

Only it wasn’t Ushijima.

Oikawa’s brows rose as he took in the security guard. He was sturdy, his arms thick enough to strain the sleeves of his security uniform. His brows were slanted low and his eyes were as sharp as his jawline.

Distantly, Oikawa remembered he was supposed to be in a bad mood, but that didn’t dampen his dazzling smile. “You’re not Ushiwaka,” he said brightly.

The security guard’s eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?”

“Trust me, it’s a compliment,” said Oikawa. “I haven’t seen you before. Are you new?”

The man nodded once. “Iwaizumi Hajime.”

The name was immediately scorched into Oikawa’s brain like a brand.

“Oikawa Tooru,” he returned, upping the wattage of his smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Iwaizumi-san.”

“I was told there was a shoplifting,” said Iwaizumi, cutting directly to business.

“Ah, yes,” said Oikawa. “I’m pulling up video footage now.”

They both looked at the computer screen, which was finally displaying the desktop. 

“It may take a few minutes,” admitted Oikawa. He swiveled the chair back toward Iwaizumi and smiled again. “Would you like to sit? I can drag in an extra chair.”

“Did you see the theft?”

“No. I was taking a break.”

The way Iwaizumi eyed him seemed a touch judgmental. “Who did, then?”

“Kageyama,” said Oikawa, gesturing vaguely toward the sales floor.

“I’ll talk to him, then,” said Iwaizumi. “Make a copy of that video. I’ll come back for it before I leave.”

“Okay,” said Oikawa, but Iwaizumi had already stepped out of the room.

Oikawa stared after him. He should have been offended by Iwaizumi’s bluntness. In fact, he’d been borderline rude. 

He couldn’t quite decide how to feel about it. No one was rude to Oikawa.

Oikawa dragged himself toward the door, chair wheels squeaking. He peered out into the store and found Iwaizumi talking to Kageyama near the registers. Iwaizumi still looked stern, but he listened with a distinct level of attentiveness, nodding as Kageyama spoke, asking polite questions as he jotted down information on a small notepad.

He wasn’t being friendly, exactly, but he appeared much more amicable than he’d been with Oikawa.

Oikawa narrowed his eyes at the pair of them and kicked himself back over to the computer. He clicked at the security system with quiet bitterness. 

Maybe he hadn’t been charming enough. Usually he didn’t even have to try, but maybe Iwaizumi would require a little more effort. That was fine. Oikawa had never met anyone he couldn’t win over.

And he certainly wanted to win over Iwaizumi. He had a weakness for men in uniform – with the exclusion of Ushijima, of course – and Iwaizumi was not bad to look at.

He would just have to try harder. Oikawa Tooru appreciated a challenge.

Ten minutes later, Oikawa had located the proper video, forcibly stifled his personal fury from watching someone steal from _his_ store, and copied it onto one of the cheap spare flash drives they kept for this specific purpose. 

He carried it out to the store with a spring in his step, ignoring the customers he passed along the way, fixated solely on the security guard standing just outside the storefront with his cell pressed against his ear.

He only caught the tail end of the conversation as Iwaizumi said, “Yeah, of course. The manager is copying it. I’ll print out some stills as soon as I get it. Right. Got it, thanks, Ushijima.”

Oikawa suppressed a cringe at the name, opting instead for another brilliant smile as Iwaizumi ended the call. “Here you go, Iwaizumi-san!” He offered the flash drive with a flourish. “All copied and ready to go.”

Iwaizumi took it and tucked it away in one of his breast pockets. “Thanks,” he said gruffly. “Kageyama gave us a description and we’ve got guards at the exits looking for them, but it’s likely they ran out before I got here. If you hadn’t taken so long to call we might’ve caught them.”

It took an extreme effort of will for Oikawa to maintain his smile. “I had Kageyama call as soon as I was informed,” he said, the politeness edged with the slightest hint of irritation. 

“He said you brushed him off because you were slacking in the back room,” said Iwaizumi. He shrugged and added, “We’ll do what we can. Let us know if you need anything else.”

With that he was gone, striding down the hallway in the thick of the crowd.

Oikawa watched him go with a vacant stare, uncertain if he should be disappointed or irritated.

This wasn’t going to be easy, but Oikawa had never been a quitter.

  
  
  
  
  
A few days later, Oikawa sat on one of the stools at the counter of the mobile repair store, swiveling back and forth as he watched Kuroo poke at the guts of a dismantled cell phone. 

Kuroo sat back and frowned at the phone as if it has personally offended him. Oikawa leaned over and pressed a fingertip against the wrinkles on his brow. “Don’t think too hard, Tetsu-chan. Your tiny brain can’t handle it.”

Kuroo absently smacked him away. “I have a very large brain, thank you very much. I saw it once. I got a bad concussion and they x-rayed me to make sure nothing was fractured.”

Oikawa hummed. “Head trauma. That explains a lot.” 

“That’s not much of an insult, coming from you,” said Kuroo. He hunched over the scattered cellphone pieces, expertly fitting them back together. “Your mom must have dropped you on your head a dozen times when you were a kid.”

“Not true,” said Oikawa. “I was raised with love and care.”

“And spoiled so badly that it ruined you,” muttered Kuroo. He snapped the back cover onto the phone and slouched back in his chair. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Can I not just stop by to visit one of my dearest friends?” said Oikawa. 

“Only when you want something.”

“Rude, Tetsu-chan.”

Kuroo just stared at him.

With a sigh, Oikawa slipped out his phone and placed it carefully on the counter between them. “Could you maybe-”

“I’m not your personal tech support,” said Kuroo flatly.

“You have been for the past year. Why would you stop now?”

Kuroo looked wholly unimpressed. Still, he took the phone with a sigh and tapped at the screen.

Oikawa’s smug smile faltered when a deep voice spoke from directly behind him.

“Excuse me. Are you Kuroo Tetsurou?”

Oikawa whipped around on his stool so fast that he was nearly unbalanced. 

Iwaizumi was only a few steps behind him, decked out in his security uniform.

“I am,” said Kuroo. He discarded Oikawa’s phone onto the table. “What can I do for you?”

“My radio has been shorting out,” said Iwaizumi, unlatching it from his belt. “Ushijima said you can fix it.”

“Sure, let me take a look.”

He passed it over and Oikawa looked between them, torn. On one hand, he was mortally offended that Kuroo had put his problem aside to deal with Iwaizumi’s. On the other, he was concerned that if he complained about it, Kuroo would only mock him and make him look like an idiot in front of Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi glanced to the side, catching Oikawa’s stare. He considered him for a moment and said, “Aren’t you the manager from that retail store upstairs?”

Oikawa’s smile flickered on like he’d flipped a switch. “Yes!”

“What was your name again?”

Oikawa felt like screaming. Instead he smiled more brightly and said, “Oikawa Tooru.”

“Oh, right.”

With that, he returned his attention to Kuroo, who was fiddling with his radio.

Oikawa chewed on the inside of his cheek, thinking. He mustered all the charm he could manage and asked, “Has any progress been made on our shoplifter, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi went still. Slowly, he turned his head to look at Oikawa. “What?”

“I asked if you’d found out anything about our shoplifter,” repeated Oikawa.

“I heard you,” said Iwaizumi curtly. “What did you call me?”

“Iwa-chan,” chirped Oikawa. “You see, I couldn’t remember all of your name so I improvised.”

“It’s Iwaizumi.”

Oikawa hummed. “I prefer Iwa-chan.”

“I don’t.”

“Here you go, Iwaizumi-san,” said Kuroo, sliding the radio back over. He was doing an impressive job of containing his humor, but Oikawa knew him well enough to see the laughter behind his slightly smug smile. “It should be alright, but bring it back it if gives you any more problems.”

“Thank you,” said Iwaizumi. He took the radio, clipped it on his belt, and glanced between the pair of them before starting for the door.

“Bye-bye, Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa, waving in his direction with a grin.

Iwaizumi scowled at him over his shoulder but kept walking.

When he was out of the store, Kuroo snorted. “What’s the deal with that?” he asked, propping his elbows on the counter and leaning over. “I thought you hated security.”

“I hate Ushiwaka,” said Oikawa, still staring toward the door. “I have no problems with buff men in uniform.”

“Wait, hang on,” said Kuroo. “Was that supposed to be _flirting?_ ”

“Of course not,” said Oikawa. “If I was flirting with him you’d know it. I was just being friendly.” He swiveled back toward Kuroo and added, “Speaking of friends, why don’t you be a good one and fix my phone instead of neglecting me?”

“If it’ll get you out of my hair,” grumbled Kuroo, reaching for the phone.

“Not the best metaphor, Tetsu-chan,” said Oikawa. “I wouldn’t be caught dead anywhere near your hair.”

Kuroo swiped at him, Oikawa launched himself out of reach, and everyone in the store turned to stare at Oikawa when he hit the floor. 

  
  
  
  
  
Oikawa had said that wasn’t an attempt at flirting, and he hadn’t lied. It had been a bit teasing, but not outright flirtatious. 

When his continued attempts at friendliness failed, however, he decided that flirting was the only way to go.

A week later, Oikawa paced from one wall of his store to the other, smiling when he passed by browsing customers, eyes stuck to the door.

He checked his watch. Ten minutes had passed since he’d called the security office, and still no one had arrived.

When his pacing took him near to the counter again, Semi gave him a flat look. “Do you have to do that? It’s annoying.”

“I’m not doing anything, Semi-chan,” said Oikawa with false cheer. “I’m only walking my store to make sure everything stays in order. I’m a good manager.”

Semi raised a brow. It seemed he had something sarcastic to say, but he didn’t get the chance. The phone behind the counter rang. Semi moved to get it, but Oikawa’s sharp voice stopped him.

“That might be the security office calling back!” he said. He rushed toward the end of the counter, nearly tripped over his own feet, and darted forward to grab the phone. “Aoba Johsai Fashions, Oikawa speaking.”

Semi was silently judging him, but he was easily ignored.

“Yes, hello,” said a soft female voice. “I bought a few items there a couple of weeks ago and I had some questions.”

Oikawa breathed a sigh, trying to expel his disappointment. When he spoke, the tone of friendliness and accommodation was at complete odds with the irritation narrowing his eyes. “Of course, ma’am. How can I help?”

She wanted to complain, which was unsurprising. Every single phone call was either a question about currently stocked items or a complaint about recently purchased ones. The complaints were all unfounded, of course. Oikawa personally felt his store ran perfectly, even under the care of his questionable staff.

He smoothed the issue over quickly, comforting the customer with warm promises and honey-sweet apologies. It was a duty he’d gotten used to quickly, one that he didn’t really mind. He was good at telling people exactly what they wanted to hear.

When the woman was satisfied, he hung up the phone and turned toward Semi, prepared to resume their snappy conversation of a moment before.

Instead he was met with an eyeful of Iwaizumi, who stood on the other side of the counter, arms folded.

Oikawa glanced to the side, where Semi was too busy with a customer to even look at him. He returned his full attention to Iwaizumi and put on his best smile. “Hello again, Iwa-chan! You look imposing, as usual.”

Iwaizumi’s jaw ticked. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not? It’s cute.” Oikawa propped his elbows on the counter, tilting his head slightly as he smiled up at Iwaizumi. “It suits you.”

In his experience, that sort of look tended to leave most people a blushing, stuttering mess.

Clearly Iwaizumi was not most people.

He was unimpressed. In fact, he seemed annoyed.

“Why did you call the office?” said Iwaizumi flatly. 

Oikawa hummed. “You know, Iwa-chan, it’s almost like you’re not happy to see me again.”

“I’m not. What do you want?”

Oikawa tried to tell himself Iwaizumi was only playing hard to get. It was a stretch, especially considering the scowl, but he could be optimistic.

“I was just wondering about that shoplifting incident from last week,” said Oikawa. He leaned a little closer over the counter. “You know, the one with the shoes. Have you gotten any leads?”

“All the information has been turned over to the police,” said Iwaizumi. He glanced toward the door, as if considering a quick escape. “If they find something they’ll let us know, and someone from our office will let you know.”

“That’s not very personal,” said Oikawa. “Couldn’t Iwa-chan be the one to tell me?”

“Only if I have to,” said Iwaizumi flatly.

Everything about Iwaizumi, from his posture to his voice to his attitude, screamed _uninterested_.

Oikawa kept pushing anyway.

“You must work very hard, Iwa-chan.” He gave Iwaizumi his best sultry smile and said, “Why don’t you let me buy you dinner, to thank you for all your hard work?”

The grumpiness evaporated from Iwaizumi’s face. He looked startled, and Oikawa inwardly rejoiced. He’d cracked the tough outer shell; it was all downhill from here.

Then Iwaizumi fell back into a scowl, this one sharper with narrow speculation. “I have to get back to work,” he said. He turned on his heel and stalked toward the door.

Oikawa was so blindsided by the sudden departure that he couldn’t even call out after him.

He watched Iwaizumi’s back until it disappeared around the corner. He turned to find Semi watching him, smug.

“What’s wrong, Oikawa-san?” said Semi. “You look like that’s the first time someone has told you no.”

Oikawa just stared at him, blank.

Semi blinked and said, “Wait. Was that the first time? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“He’s straight,” said Oikawa, hoping his voice sounded more confident than he felt. “That’s the only reasonable explanation. He’s totally straight, or he would be interested.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s straight,” said Semi. “There could be another reason. Maybe he’s aro. Or maybe he just doesn’t like you.” 

Oikawa didn’t immediately respond. He stared off toward the door where Iwaizumi had disappeared. 

“So are you giving up now?” asked Semi. “He made it pretty clear that he wants nothing to do with you.”

“And you’ve made it pretty clear you want nothing to do with the weird redhead who works down the hall,” said Oikawa, “but he’s still going to win you over. And that’s exactly what’s going to happen with Iwa-chan.”

“He is not going to win me over!” said Semi, immediately defensive. “I don’t like Tendou.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes, but didn’t comment. Instead he said, “Just you wait, Semi-chan. I’ll get the security guard. Watch me.”


	2. Chapter 2

Another week dragged by, and still Oikawa hadn’t managed to make Iwaizumi fall in love with him.

In fact, he was beginning to suspect Iwaizumi disliked him a little more every time they spoke.

Oikawa wasn’t going to lie to himself and say he didn’t have issues. He wasn’t perfect, but he did feel that he could flawlessly behave as if he was. It had always been convincing. If he truly wanted someone to like him, they always did. It was part of his talent, part of his charm. 

Yet Iwaizumi wanted nothing to do with him. 

Maybe there was something wrong with him, after all.

During his lunch break, he sat at a vacant table in the food court, poking idly at his food and trying to figure out why Iwaizumi hated him.

Even if he was straight, he could still be Oikawa’s friend. It wasn’t the ideal scenario, but Oikawa would have accepted it.

Then again, maybe it had nothing to do with Iwaizumi’s sexual preferences. Maybe that was just a shoddy excuse. Maybe Oikawa was the only problem here.

Oikawa glanced up as someone pulled out a chair and sat across from him. Akaashi placed his food on the table and immediately popped the lid off of his meal, digging in without acknowledging Oikawa.

For a moment Oikawa just sat there, thinking. 

It was no secret that Akaashi was attractive. He had a narrow face, sharp eyes, and a cool attitude that only added to his appeal.

In this sort of situation, his opinion would be of value.

“Do you think I’m attractive, Aka-chan?” said Oikawa. 

Akaashi raised a brow at him, continuing to chew through a mouthful of sushi.

“I am, right?” said Oikawa, when an answer wasn’t immediately forthcoming. He flicked his hair away from his eyes, a little discomfited by the severe way Akaashi stared. “I mean, I always thought I was. Am I?” 

Oikawa would have appreciated some affirmation. Instead, Akaashi asked, “Why are you worried about this, Oikawa-san?”

Oikawa sighed and frowned at his food. He hadn’t eaten much of it. He wasn’t in the mood. “Everyone has always liked me,” he said. It sounded as if he was trying to convince himself. “I’m likeable. I’m attractive and I’m likeable.”

Akaashi took another bite of sushi. His silence was unnerving.

Oikawa stabbed at a clump of rice, trying to vent a measure of his frustration. “Would you date me, Aka-chan?” he asked. 

“Are you asking me out?”

Oikawa scoffed. He recognized Akaashi was attractive, and it seemed that their new wild-haired friend had definitely made that discovery, but Oikawa would never date him. Akaashi was a little too cynical and a little too cold. 

But if someone like Akaashi would date him, then Iwaizumi would have absolutely no reason not to.

“Hypothetically,” said Oikawa. “Would you hypothetically date me?”

Akaashi’s stare was piercing. Oikawa anticipated a positive response, because the answer seemed obvious.

Akaashi said, simply, “No.”

Oikawa felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “What? Why not?”

Akaashi considered him, taking another bite instead of answering. He chewed with exceptional slowness. Oikawa leaned forward, the anticipation putting him on edge.

“You’re not my type,” Akaashi finally said with a small shrug, as if he hadn’t just ground Oikawa’s feelings into dust. “No one could argue that you’re attractive, Oikawa-san. However, you try too hard to be what people expect of you instead of just being what you are.”

Oikawa sank back in his seat, mind buzzing with blank static.

He turned that statement over in his head a few times, trying to get a solid grip on it.

He didn’t understand what Akaashi meant. Oikawa didn’t think it was possible to try too hard. He always put his all into everything, and that included social interactions. He didn’t know how trying to get along with everyone was a bad thing.

Then, in a moment of sudden, painful clarity, he realized what Akaashi meant.

Akaashi thought Oikawa was too _fake_.

He felt like he was plummeting from the tip of a skyscraper. His stomach was in his throat, mind whirling like he was freefalling.

Did everyone think that? Were they just polite to him out of common courtesy? Did they convene behind his back and talk about how Oikawa tries too hard?

He stood abruptly, gathering the food he’d failed to eat. “I’m going back,” he said, voice lacking its usual shine. “Bye, Akaashi.”

He stopped at the trash can to dump his leftovers and headed back toward the store, aware that his lunch hour was waning. 

Akaashi’s words churned in his head, and the more he thought about them, the more aggravated he became. Akaashi didn’t know what he was talking about. He didn’t know Oikawa well enough to draw those sorts of conclusions about him. 

Oikawa wasn’t fake. He was friendly and likeable, and he wasn’t going to change that for anyone.

  
  
  
  
  
Over the next couple of days, Oikawa cranked his perky attitude up to full wattage. He fawned over customers, commended his employees, and harassed Kuroo until he developed an irrepressible eye twitch.

If Oikawa happened to avoid Akaashi during that time, it was by sheer coincidence.

“That display won’t fix itself, Tobio-chan,” Oikawa sang, draping himself over a rack of denim to smirk at Kageyama. “Also, would it kill you to smile? There are customers around, you know. You want to make a good impression.”

Kageyama flatly looked up at him. His mouth twitched into a grimace.

“On second thought,” said Oikawa, taking a step back, “nevermind.”

Kageyama scowled and Oikawa drifted toward the register, where Semi stared down at the counter with a frown.

Oikawa approached slowly, circling behind him with quiet steps. Semi didn’t notice, and the reason quickly became obvious. He was using the edge of the counter to shield his cell phone, his thumbs tapping away at the screen as he typed up a quick text.

Oikawa leaned close and said, “Who are you talking to, Semi-chan?”

Semi startled so violently that his phone clattered to the floor. He rushed to pick it up, shoving it in his pocket without looking at it. “No one,” he said. “I was just checking… something.”

“Is that so?” said Oikawa with a grin. “Funny, because it looked like you were texting. And the name at the top of the screen looked very much like _Tendou_.”

Semi winced and glanced around, as if afraid someone was listening in. He said, in a hissed whisper, “He’s taking a class I had last semester and he’s having trouble. I’m just trying to help him out. That’s it.”

Oikawa hummed and leaned closer. Semi shuffled back a step. “It sounds like you’re protesting a little too much. You can be honest with Oikawa-san. Do you have a thing for redheads? Oh, or maybe it’s because Ten-chan is really tall, so that might mean he has a really long-”

“Excuse me,” piped a female voice. “Is this where I can make a return?”

“Of course!” said Oikawa, smoothly transitioning into work mode. “My friend here will get you all taken care of. Right, Semi-chan?”

“Y-yeah, I’ve got it,” said Semi, clearly still flustered. He rubbed a hand over the hot blush on his face and stepped up to the counter, forcing a half-smile. “What are you returning today, ma’am?”

Oikawa smirked at him and slipped away from the register. He checked on Kageyama one more time, made a few comments that earned another scowl, and retreated to the storage room. 

Technically it was the opener’s job to sort through their new items and get them ready to put onto the sales floor. The person opening the following day was Kageyama, which gave Oikawa even more incentive to leave the duties until morning. Still, he pried open the nearest box and sifted through the contents, figuring he could get at least half of the merchandise prepped for display. 

Oikawa didn’t like to overburden his employees. As manager, he felt it was his job to make their lives as easy as possible.

Even Kageyama.

He was three boxes in when the storage room door was slung open. Semi peered inside, a rare panic flashing in his eyes.

Oikawa started to ask if there was trouble with Tendou in paradise, just to diffuse the tension, but Semi spoke before he could make the jab.

When Semi revealed the problem, Oikawa was glad he hadn’t made the joke, because there was nothing funny about the situation.

“Another pair of Morino heels are gone.”

Oikawa’s stomach sank. He felt like he’d swallowed a shipwreck.

Semi kept talking. “I called security already. They’re on their way. We didn’t see who took the shoes, though. I’ve been stuck at the register and Kageyama was working on that display up front and he just happened to notice they’re gone.”

That meant security wouldn’t do much good. Oikawa couldn’t even give them a description of the shoplifter, not until he rolled back the camera footage.

“Okay,” said Oikawa, much more calmly than he felt. “Get back to the register. I’ll start pulling video.”

“Right. But Kageyama-”

“Tell him to calm down,” said Oikawa, already aware of what Semi was going to say. “It isn’t his fault.”

If anything, it was Oikawa’s.

“Sure,” said Semi. He ducked back out into the store, and for a dragging second, Oikawa stared after him.

Two pair of shoes in two weeks. That usually wasn’t a huge loss. They’d had much more frequent incidents. Shoplifting happened all the time.

Two pair of Morino heels, though, was a huge loss. 

And they’d both been taken on Oikawa’s watch.

He paced out of the storage room, took a quick sweep of the sales floor – Semi had a hand on Kageyama’s shoulder, mumbling something into his ear – and went into the office.

He began the process of booting up the ancient computer, and as it whirred to life, he half-collapsed onto the desk and buried his face in his arms. 

This was going to take a huge chunk out of their profit margins for the month. The store owner was going to skin him alive. 

All things considered, this really was Oikawa’s fault. It was his store to manage, so anything that happened there was his responsibility. If he hadn’t been in the back room, maybe he would’ve seen the shoplifter and stopped them. If he hadn’t chided Kageyama about finishing the display, maybe he wouldn’t have been so distracted that he hadn’t noticed anything.

Maybe if Oikawa was a better manager in general, this wouldn’t keep happening.

“Oikawa?”

The voice was deep, familiar, and much too close. At any other time Oikawa would have been pleased by his arrival. Now, however, he couldn’t bolster up the energy to offer a single flirtatious line as he looked up at Iwaizumi.

“I’m just waiting on the computer,” said Oikawa, sitting up straighter. “We didn’t see the thief so I don’t have a description for you just yet, sorry. I’ll pull the video, but it’s going to take a little time. I can call security back when it’s ready, so you don’t have to wait.”

He turned back toward the computer, which had finally reached the startup menu, and tapped at a couple of keys. 

Iwaizumi didn’t immediately move, and Oikawa spared another glance in his direction.

Iwaizumi stared back, a deep furrow creasing his brow.

A few seconds ticked by as they looked at each other. Iwaizumi said, “What’s wrong with you?”

Oikawa went blank. Belatedly he realized how he must have looked to Iwaizumi, slouched over like he’d been defeated, his voice dull with self-pity. 

He pulled a smile onto his face and said, with faux cheer, “Nothing, Iwa-chan. Everything is great.”

Iwaizumi looked utterly unimpressed.

Oikawa’s smile faltered. Despite the past three days of trying to completely repress the conversation he’d had with Akaashi, he found himself remembering what he’d said. With a sigh, Oikawa dropped his smile completely. His shoulders slumped a little, hands falling into his lap.

“This is going to crush our store profits,” he said. His voice sounded unnaturally flat without the typical luster. “There have been a few other shoplifting incidents, but those were minor. These two pair of shoes alone are worth over 400,000 yen. It was a risk to even stock them because it’s well above the price range of the typical customer. The store owner was back and forth on it, but I convinced him it was a good idea. Even selling a single pair would make everything worth it.” He sighed and sank further down in his seat. “This sucks.”

The prompt for the security program opened on the screen, requesting login information. Oikawa just stared at it, unmoving.

Iwaizumi didn’t immediately speak. He stepped back, and Oikawa was certain that his sudden dreariness had driven him away. Rather than leaving, Iwaizumi seized the spare chair in the corner, flipped it around, and straddled it with his arms folded on the back. 

“Are you worried you’re going to get blamed for it?” said Iwaizumi.

“I should be blamed for it,” said Oikawa, still staring at the screen. “This is my store.”

Iwaizumi nudged his chair with a boot, demanding his attention. “It’s not your fault. Shit happens. The police are still looking into the other incident, and we know what the suspect looks like. Don’t give up on it yet.”

Oikawa frowned, confused. It almost sounded like Iwaizumi was trying to comfort him, but that was ridiculous. Iwaizumi didn’t like him. He’d made that very clear.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” said Iwaizumi.

“You’re being nice to me,” said Oikawa.

“So?”

“It’s weird.”

“It’s not weird,” scoffed Iwaizumi. “I’m not a dick.”

“You are to me.”

“Only because you’ve been a brat every time I’ve spoken to you.”

“That’s not true,” said Oikawa. “I’m charming.”

Iwaizumi snorted. “Yeah, okay. If that’s what you want to call it.”

Oikawa folded his arms, sulking. “That’s rude, Iwa-chan.” He realized too late that he’d used the nickname and glanced sideways at Iwaizumi, wondering if he’d ruined whatever peace had blossomed between them.

Iwaizumi didn’t seem bothered. “Maybe you are charming when you don’t try so hard. Who knows.”

Oikawa remembered Akaashi’s blunt advice and felt a surge of dread.

Iwaizumi must have seen it on his face.

“Hey.” Iwaizumi kicked his chair again. “I’m not trying to be mean here, alright? I’m just saying you don’t have to be so damn cheerful all the time. It’s okay to be in a shit mood every now and then.”

“People don’t like people who aren’t happy,” said Oikawa, surprising himself with the honesty. “A good attitude is what’s gotten me this far. I wouldn’t have this job without it.”

Iwaizumi considered that with a frown. “Okay,” he said, “but that’s just for work, right? Why are you like that the rest of the time?”

“Because… that’s the only way people will like me,” said Oikawa quietly. His heart twisted at his own words, a flush of embarrassment heating his cheeks. He hadn’t meant to say it. He shouldn’t have said it, especially not to someone like Iwaizumi, whom he barely knew. He’d made himself vulnerable, which was also something he didn’t do. It was a good way to get taken advantage of.

“Bullshit,” said Iwaizumi. “I’ve never been half as friendly as you in my life and I’ve still got friends. Not as many as you, probably, but I’m doing alright. Besides, I like you better like this, when you’re not pretending.”

It wasn’t the best compliment Oikawa had ever received, not by a longshot, but he perked up immediately. “Really?”

Iwaizumi shifted his eyes to the side. “Yeah, really. Are you going to pull that video or what?”

Oikawa dragged his attention to the computer to log into the security program. He swiveled back toward Iwaizumi and a genuine smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Thanks, Iwa-chan.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled. He seemed almost embarrassed. 

“Hey, Iwa-chan?”

“Hmm?”

“What time is your shift over?”

“Nine.”

“Want to go get coffee or something after?” said Oikawa.

He held his breath, looking at the computer screen instead of Iwaizumi. He was expecting a flat rejection, because of course Iwaizumi would say no. Just because they’d gotten along for five minutes didn’t mean they were friends, and it certainly didn’t mean Iwaizumi wanted to spend time with him.

Oikawa was about to apologize for even asking when Iwaizumi spoke.

“Yeah, sure.”

If Oikawa’s mood had already lifted, it was now soaring somewhere in the farthest reaches of the galaxies. 

  
  
  
  
  
Two hours later, Oikawa sat across from Iwaizumi at a small wooden table, a warm mug in his hands and a soft smile on his face.

Iwaizumi tore open a trio of sugar packets and dumped them into his drink with a frown of concentration. He’d stripped off the bulky belt and the button-up shirt of his uniform, leaving him in a white t-shirt that hugged his broad chest. 

It took a lot of effort not to stare.

“You seem okay now,” said Iwaizumi, stirring the sugar into his coffee. 

Oikawa considered saying something like, _I’m much better now that I’m here with you, Iwa-chan_.

But he didn’t want Iwaizumi to get irritated and leave, so he reigned in the impulse.

“I’m alright,” said Oikawa. He took a sip of his drink, the taste of chocolate warming his tongue. “I called the store owner to let him know what was going on. He didn’t sound as mad as I thought he was going to be. He did say we might benefit from more coverage, though, so I’ll have to break in a new hire soon.” He sighed and stared into his drink. “I think I’ll just make Semi-chan train them. He’s efficient.”

Oikawa would never push that duty off onto someone else, but it was a nice idea all the same.

“So other than work,” said Iwaizumi, settling back more comfortably in his chair, “what kind of stuff do you do?”

“Is Iwa-chan interested in me?” said Oikawa with a smug grin.

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “What else are we supposed to talk about? I thought you would still be in crisis mode and I’d have to comfort you or something.”

“You were going to comfort me,” repeated Oikawa. He was almost delighted, but realized the implication of that statement. “Oh. When you agreed to hang out, you were just being nice.”

Iwaizumi snorted. “Don’t be stupid. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m glad you’re not upset anymore. You were stressing too much about something that isn’t your fault.”

“Why’d you agree to come here, then?”

“You asked.”

“I’ve asked you out before,” said Oikawa, “and you turned me down. Repeatedly.”

Iwaizumi stared at him a little too long, his face blank. Slowly, he placed his drink on the table and said, “I thought you were just messing with me.”

“…what?”

“I thought the whole flirting act was just to embarrass me. I figured someone told you I’m gay and you were just making fun of me.” He frowned down at the table, brow creased. “I didn’t think you were serious.”

Oikawa’s jaw dropped. 

That was why Iwaizumi hadn’t liked him.

He’d thought Oikawa was _making fun of him_.

“I would never do that!” said Oikawa. 

Someone at a nearby table glanced over and Oikawa lowered his voice.

“Iwa-chan, I wouldn’t do something like that. Of course I was serious. I really wanted you to go out with me.” Oikawa propped his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “I didn’t know you felt that way. I thought you were just annoyed.”

“Well, you are a little annoying,” said Iwaizumi, still staring off to the side.

“But you don’t hate me?”

Iwaizumi was surprised into looking at him. “Of course I don’t hate you.”

Oikawa smiled, and it felt more comfortable on his face than his usual fake ones. 

Iwaizumi didn’t hate him. Iwaizumi was having coffee with him. Iwaizumi had thought Oikawa was making fun of him for being gay, and yet he had still taken the time to make sure Oikawa was alright after the shoplifting incident.

“Now that we’ve established that,” said Oikawa, drumming his fingertips against his mug, “do you want to go out with me?”

Iwaizumi eyed him, frowning, as if he was still unsure of Oikawa’s intentions. 

“You don’t have to,” said Oikawa, sitting back in his chair. “No pressure.”

That seemed to relax him a bit. “Out where?”

“We can get dinner after work one day,” said Oikawa, “if you want. My treat, since you spent the last month thinking I was harassing you.”

“That’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have assumed that.”

“Either way, I’d still like to buy you dinner.”

Iwaizumi took a drink of his coffee, eyeing Oikawa over the edge of the mug. He put it down and licked a stray drop off of his upper lip. He smiled, and though it was small and subdued, it was absolutely stunning. “Sure,” he said. “Tomorrow night?”

Oikawa’s heart soared. “Yeah,” he said, trying to keep his voice level. “Tomorrow is good.”

From the moment he’d seen Iwaizumi, he’d been determined to go out with him. He should have felt triumphant, but all he could focus on was a warm sense of contentment. He had a date with Iwaizumi, and it was because he’d let his guard down and allowed himself to be genuine.

Akaashi had been right, after all. Oikawa couldn’t wait to thank him. 


	3. Chapter 3

Oikawa didn’t have to work the following day, which would have been relaxing at any other time.

He went to class at eight o’clock, finished at one-thirty, and went back to his apartment. Before last night, he’d planned to use the free hours to catch up on his schoolwork. He had an anatomy exam coming up the following week and a biology report that needed to be completed before Monday.

He sat down at his desk and tried to be productive, but his nervous energy denied him.

He twirled a pencil between his fingers, bounced his leg, and stared blankly at the tiny print in his textbook.

Forty-five minutes and no progress later, he gave up.

He wasn’t meeting up with Iwaizumi until seven, which meant he had a lot of time to burn. Regardless, he dressed in a nice shirt and his most flattering jeans before leaving the apartment and heading to the mall.

His first stop was the food court, because it was almost time for Kuroo’s break. When he failed to find him there, he checked at the repair store and had more luck. Fortunately Akaashi was there too, and Oikawa warmly thanked him for his advice.

Akaashi was still sort of a jerk, but Oikawa didn’t mind him. In fact, he was pretty sure he owed him one.

After that he headed upstairs to Aoba Johsai, where Semi leaned against the counter, tapping out a quick text.

“Welcome to Aoba Johsai,” called Semi when Oikawa entered. He didn’t bother looking up. “Let me know if you need any help.”

Oikawa was disappointed. He’d trained Semi better than that.

He wandered through the clothing racks, making his way toward the registers. He approached from the side, and Semi was so absorbed in his phone that he didn’t notice Oikawa slip behind the counter and creep up behind him.

He should’ve learned his lesson the last time.

Oikawa stood on his toes to get a better look over Semi’s shoulder. He caught a glimpse of the message Semi was working on: … _have to work. I can maybe go tomorrow but I don’t know if-_

“Planning a date, Semi-chan?” purred Oikawa, leaning closer.

Semi jerked away, nearly dropping his phone. It fumbled between his fingers and he barely snatched it out of the air. He whipped his head around, his surprise morphing into narrow-eyed irritation as he recognized Oikawa.

“Do you have to creep up on me like that?” he snapped, shoving his phone in his pocket and crossing his arms.

“I don’t know, Semi-chan,” said Oikawa airily. “Do you have to stay glued to your phone when you’re supposed to be working?”

Semi seemed to realize, belatedly, that Oikawa was his manager. His aggressive posture was punctured like a popped balloon.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, looking across the store instead of at Oikawa. “It won’t happen again.”

“Don’t apologize,” said Oikawa. He smiled, sharp and suggestive. “Just tell me what’s going on with you and Ten-chan and we’ll forget this ever happened.”

Semi scowled. “Nothing is going on.”

“It didn’t look like nothing to me.”

“He just wants me to go with him to some stupid arcade,” said Semi. He glanced around the mostly vacant store before slouching against the counter. “I don’t know why he’s even asking me. It’s not like we’re friends or anything. I barely know him.”

“You know him well enough to have his phone number.”

“He asked me for it. I already told you, he’s taking the same history class I had last year and he thought he might need help.”

“Please, Semi-chan,” scoffed Oikawa. “How naïve could you possibly be?”

Semi glared at the floor and said nothing.

“Let me see your phone,” said Oikawa.

Some of Semi’s heat faded, replaced by suspicion. “What?”

“Hand it over,” said Oikawa. He stretched out a hand. 

“No.”

“Give it to me,” said Oikawa, his voice dipping lower, “or I’ll write you up for texting during your shift.”

Semi looked like he’d been kicked in the stomach. “Can you do that?”

“I’m your boss,” said Oikawa flatly, all traces of teasing gone. “I can do whatever I want.”

Semi looked at Oikawa’s outstretched hand. He considered, teetering on the edge of a decision, before slapping his phone into Oikawa’s palm and folding his arms again.

Oikawa tapped at the screen. “Lock code?”

“What are you-”

“ _Lock code_ ,” repeated Oikawa, his voice sharpening.

Semi balked, then mumbled, “It’s all ones.”

Oikawa entered the numbers and opened the messenger.

Semi fidgeted as Oikawa swiped through the texts, the gleam of his eyes belying his feigned disinterest.

When Oikawa started typing, Semi straightened out of his slouch. “What are you doing?”

“Helping my favorite employee,” said Oikawa, a crease appearing between his brows as he focused on the screen. “You owe me one, Semi-chan.”

Semi lurched forward and tried to grab the phone out of his hands. Oikawa gracefully spun away, still typing, and Semi seized his arm and yanked him back around.

This time when Semi lunged for the phone, Oikawa let him take it. He stepped back with a smirk as Semi frantically swiped at the screen.

“You’ve got a date tomorrow,” said Oikawa brightly. “You’re welcome.”

“Oikawa, you can’t-”

“I already did.” Oikawa beamed at him. “You can’t back out now. If you do, you’ll hurt Ten-chan’s feelings.”

Semi’s phone buzzed in his hand. He glanced down at the text and then up at Oikawa, desperate. “What did I ever do to you?”

“That’s what you get for texting on the job, Semi-chan,” said Oikawa. “Now put your phone away and get to work. If you’re bored, you can start setting up interviews. I want to hire someone soon. In the meantime, I have to go meet up with my own date for the night.”

Oikawa waited for Semi to ask who he was going out with, and where, and insist on collecting details that Oikawa would have been all too pleased to provide.

But Semi seemed to be too caught up in his own issues to care about Oikawa’s.

Oikawa gave up on him. He did a quick circuit of the store, just to make sure everything was in order, before heading back out to the main floor of the mall. He passed by the mobile repair shop, thought about going back inside to talk to Kuroo, and decided against it. He’d already informed Kuroo and Akaashi of his impending date. Anything further would be considered gloating.

He would wait until the date went well before he did that.

He and Iwaizumi had arranged to meet in the central foyer of the mall, right after Iwaizumi’s shift. Oikawa was still a few minutes early, despite his numerous pit stops and delays, and he perched on a bench to wait. 

Hordes of shoppers filtered past, individually and in pairs and groups. For the most part they were loud and obnoxious, screeching and laughing with no regard for the other shoppers. It would have been annoying to many, but Oikawa didn’t mind the fast pace and the bustle. He thrived on it.

About ten minutes after he’d sat down, he forgot there was anyone else in the mall at all. Iwaizumi became visible beyond a cluster of tittering high school girls. He walked with his hands in the pockets of his black slacks, a button-up tight across his chest and arms. 

He’d changed out of his security uniform for their date.

Oikawa clenched the edge of the bench so hard that his knuckles ached, refusing to let himself read too far into that.

“Hi there, Iwa-chan,” he said as Iwaizumi neared. “You look stunning.”

Iwaizumi frowned down at himself and then at Oikawa. “Are you making fun of me?”

Oikawa snorted. “I would never. Didn’t we already have this conversation?”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You ready to go?”

“Of course,” said Oikawa, rising with a smile. 

They walked toward the exit, Oikawa keeping so close to Iwaizumi that their elbows occasionally brushed. He didn’t seem bothered. In fact, he seemed calmer than Oikawa had often seen him, his usual scowl gone.

“Do you want to go anywhere in particular?” asked Iwaizumi, as they passed through the automatic doors. 

Oikawa hummed. “Not really. I’m fine with wherever Iwa-chan wants to go.”

Iwaizumi slid him a glance but didn’t protest the nickname. They crossed the street and ended up at a restaurant Oikawa had visited only once before. He’d been accompanied by Kuroo at the time, but he would readily admit that Iwaizumi was much better company.

“So, Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa, settling back in his chair after they’d placed their orders. “Tell me about yourself.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, but launched into a brief and slightly awkward summary of his life. He hesitated frequently, looking at Oikawa as if expecting to be cut off, but Oikawa only nodded and gestured for him to continue. 

He wasn’t even talking about anything particularly exciting, but still Oikawa found himself hanging onto every word. Iwaizumi had a nice voice. It was deep and smooth, just like the tone of his skin. He had nice eyes too, especially when he wasn’t scowling, and his _smile_ -

“Here you are, sir,” said the server, snapping Oikawa out of his daze. He murmured his gratitude as a plate was placed in front of him. When he looked up again, Iwaizumi was eyeing him with a raised brow. 

“What?” said Oikawa. 

“You’re blushing.”

“I am not,” snapped Oikawa. He took a sip of his drink, hoping the water would cool the warmth on his cheeks. “You’re seeing things, Iwa-chan. You need glasses.”

Iwaizumi’s mouth twitched with a smile. He watched Oikawa a little longer, his face infinitely softer than it had been when they’d first met. When he finally tucked into his food, Oikawa was relieved to be released from the scrutiny.

Oikawa had been on his fair share of dates. He enjoyed meeting people and having a chance to talk about himself. 

This wasn’t quite like any of those other dates. For the first time, he preferred for Iwaizumi to talk than himself. He genuinely wanted to know about him, even small, insignificant details that he would have immediately forgotten if anyone else had said them. He wanted to know everything about Iwaizumi. 

“Stop asking me stupid questions,” said Iwaizumi later, when they were walking back toward the mall from the restaurant. “Why does it matter where I went to middle school?”

“Just curious,” shrugged Oikawa. “I was wondering if you’d grown up in a bad neighborhood. That would explain why you’re so mean and tough.”

Iwaizumi jammed an elbow into his side, knocking him off of the sidewalk. Oikawa caught himself and skipped back alongside Iwaizumi, still grinning. He walked a little closer, their arms brushing. 

“I’m just teasing, Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa. “It doesn’t matter where you’re from. I’m just glad you ended up here.”

Iwaizumi looked over at him, taken aback by the statement. 

Oikawa realized too late how sappy it had sounded. He spluttered, trying to cover himself, but Iwaizumi just snorted and said, “Yeah, I’m glad I’m here, too.”

Oikawa felt his face warming and he looked away to hide it.

When they reached the entrance of the mall they hesitated, people navigating around them to reach the doors. Iwaizumi tucked his hands in his pockets and said, “I have to go get my stuff out of the security office.”

“Okay,” said Oikawa. He was suddenly quite aware of his arms hanging at his sides and he folded them across his chest. “Well, umm… thanks for going to dinner with me.”

“You’re the one who paid,” said Iwaizumi. “I should be thanking you.”

“I owed you for yesterday,” said Oikawa with a small smile. “We’re even.”

“Sure,” said Iwaizumi. He scuffed his boot against the sidewalk, staring off to the side. “I guess I’ll talk to you later then?”

“Yeah,” said Oikawa. He tried not to let the disappointment settle in, but still it dragged at the edges of his thoughts. “Later.” 

He turned to walk away, but only made it three steps before Iwaizumi said, “Hey, Oikawa?”

Oikawa spun back around, a bit too eagerly. “Yeah?”

“You working tomorrow?”

Oikawa nodded.

“I’ll come by and see you,” said Iwaizumi. “If that’s okay.”

Oikawa’s grin was instant. “Sure, Iwa-chan. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Iwaizumi nodded and started toward the doors, and Oikawa walked in the opposite direction, still beaming.

Iwaizumi didn’t hate him. Maybe, if Oikawa was extremely lucky, Iwaizumi even liked him a little bit. He hadn’t seemed miserable during their date; if it could even be called a date. It hadn’t been explicitly stated, but Oikawa felt it had been apparent. 

He’d gone on a dinner date with Iwaizumi, and it hadn’t been catastrophic.

Oikawa was elated.

  
  
  
  
  
The following day was splendid.

Oikawa woke up in a good mood and it persisted throughout the morning. It was Tuesday, which meant he had to work a long shift since Kageyama had a late class, but he wasn’t bothered. The only thing that mattered to him was that he’d had a perfect date the night before, and Iwaizumi had promised to come see him sometime that day.

Oikawa couldn’t wait. He’d spent entirely too long making sure his hair was perfect before he left his apartment that morning.

“Stop preening,” grumbled Semi, nudging Oikawa aside so he could adjust a display of folded jeans. “That mirror is for customers, not your conceited ass.”

Oikawa flicked at his bangs and slid a smug smile toward Semi. “Someone is in a bad mood. You should be glowing, Semi-chan. Don’t you have a date tonight?”

Semi’s scowl burned straight through him. “Yeah, thanks to you.”

“That didn’t sound very appreciative. Try again.”

“Shut up,” said Semi, folding a disheveled pair of pants with unnecessary force. “I don’t even want to go to the stupid arcade, especially not with Tendou.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” said Oikawa. He made one final adjustment to his appearance and turned to Semi. “If you don’t want to associate with Ten-chan, why were you texting him during your shift yesterday?”

Semi huffed. “I was just being nice.”

“No, you weren’t,” said Oikawa. “I read those texts. They definitely weren’t nice.”

Semi slapped the jeans onto the shelf. “What do you want me to say? He’s not awful. I don’t hate talking to him. That doesn’t mean I want to go out with him.”

“You’re reading too far into this,” said Oikawa. “Don’t be so serious. Just go out and have a good time. You never have to go out with him again if you’re miserable. If it’s really bad, text me and I’ll call you in for an emergency late-night inventory.”

Semi continued to scowl, but it was a little lighter than usual. 

“It won’t be necessary, though,” said Oikawa. “You’ll have fun. You’ll realize that deep down, Ten-chan is the man of your dreams. It will be a very romantic epiphany. Someday when the two of you grow old together you’ll think back to the time when the great Oikawa-san helped build your future.”

Semi’s stare was flat. “Has anyone ever told you how full of shit you are?”

“It’s been mentioned,” said Oikawa. “Wrongly, because it isn’t true. I’m a delight.”

The tone on the door chimed, and Oikawa nudged Semi toward the front of the store to greet the new customer.

The next hour passed smoothly. Oikawa mostly tidied the sales floor while Semi dealt with customers. Every so often Oikawa caught himself whistling along with the music filtering through the overhead speakers. 

It may have been the happiest he’d ever been at work.

The day was only made better when Semi stepped away to take his break about an hour later. Oikawa slipped behind the counter to shoulder the cashier duties, smiling at the customers with more genuine cheer than he’d ever offered. 

“Thank you for shopping with us, please come again!” he said brightly as a pair of giggling teenage girls started toward the door, their faces a little red. 

Someone had been waiting in line behind them, and as Oikawa turned toward them, he realized it wasn’t a customer.

“Iwa-chan!” he said, beaming. 

Iwaizumi didn’t even scowl. He smiled a little and stepped up to the counter. “Hey. How’s business today?”

“Fantastic!” said Oikawa. “How’s guard duty?”

Iwaizumi snorted. “Same as usual.” He folded his arms and leaned against the counter. “Looks sort of slow in here today.”

“It hasn’t been bad at all,” said Oikawa. He propped his elbows beside the register and rested his chin in his palm. “I’m glad Iwa-chan came to see me,” he said, blinking up at him.

“I told you I would,” said Iwaizumi, glancing away. 

“When’s your break?” asked Oikawa. “I can take mine as soon as Semi-chan comes back. Maybe we can grab some food together.”

“I came in early. My shift is over in an hour.”

“Oh,” said Oikawa. He tried not to pout, but he couldn’t keep his bottom lip from poking out just a bit. 

“I have stuff I need to do,” said Iwaizumi, “but I wanted to ask you something first.”

Oikawa perked up again. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi crossed his arms more tightly over his chest. His uniform sleeves were stretched around the middle of his biceps. “There’s a movie coming out this weekend. It’s some kind of weird alien thing. I think it looks stupid, but it seems like the kind of thing you would like, so… do you want to go? I’ll go grab us a pair of tickets before I leave today.”

Oikawa just stared. It was a miracle his mouth didn’t fall open.

“Oikawa?” said Iwaizumi, his brows rising in concern. “If you don’t want to go it’s fine, just-”

“No,” said Oikawa, sharply. “I want to go. We’re going.”

Iwaizumi’s brows went a little higher. “Uh, okay.”

“I’m off at six on Saturday,” said Oikawa. He knew he was talking too fast but he couldn’t make himself slow down. “We can go after that. Anytime. Whenever is good for you.”

“Sure,” said Iwaizumi, still eyeing him oddly. “I’ll check and see what the showtimes are. Can I get your number? So I can let you know and we can make plans.”

If it wouldn’t have been obvious, Oikawa would have pinched himself. There was no way this was actually happening. He must have been dreaming. 

Even if he was, he wasn’t quite ready to wake up.

“Of course, Iwa-chan,” he said, leaning closer. “I’d love to give you my number.”

Iwaizumi looked a bit flustered by that, but he tapped the number into his phone as Oikawa recited it. When he tucked his phone away, he said, “I’ll text you later then, when I know what time we can go.”

“Great,” said Oikawa. “I look forward to it.”

Iwaizumi nodded. “I guess I’ll see you soon.”

“Yes,” said Oikawa. “Soon. I’ll see you soon.”

Iwaizumi pushed away from the counter and strode out of the store, his heavy boots loud on the tile floor.

Oikawa watched him until he turned the corner past the store. When he was out of sight, Oikawa collapsed on the counter and buried his face in his arms. He stayed there for a solid five minutes, until someone tapped him on the shoulder. 

“Umm, Oikawa? Are you dead?”

Oikawa raised his head to find Semi frowning down at him.

It was fortunate that it wasn’t a customer. Oikawa didn’t think he could pull himself together well enough to be properly social. “Semi-chan. When I’m gone I want you to have my job. If you stop shopping through the new shipments while you’re on the clock, you’ll be a perfect manager.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” said Oikawa. He slumped back over on the counter, his cheek pressed against the cool marble. “I’m perfect. I’ve never been better.”

“Then why do you look like you’re melting?”

“Iwa-chan likes me,” said Oikawa. “He likes me, and he’s taking me to see an alien movie.”

Semi was unimpressed. “So?”

Oikawa stood upright and seized the front of Semi’s shirt so quickly that he tried to yank away. Oikawa’s grip held and he leaned close to stare into Semi’s face with too-wide eyes. “He’s perfect,” whispered Oikawa. “I will never meet someone this perfect again. What am I supposed to do?”

Semi tried to pry Oikawa’s hands away but he didn’t budge. “Come on. You’ve only had dinner with him once, right? I think you’re being dramatic.”

Oikawa leaned even closer. “I’m not dramatic, Semi-chan. I’m being completely serious. He’s perfect.”

“Okay,” said Semi. “He’s perfect, whatever. Let go of me, you’re wrinkling my shirt.”

Oikawa peeled his fingers away and took a step back. Semi’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Sorry about that,” said Oikawa. He pressed his palms against Semi’s chest, smoothing out the wrinkles. “We don’t want you to look disheveled for your date tonight, do we?”

Semi scowled and smacked his hands away. “It’s not a date.”

“We’ll see about that,” said Oikawa. “I expect a full report in the morning.”

“No.” He stomped off toward the back of the store, and Oikawa let him go without another word.

He could have nagged Semi for another half hour, at least. It would have been entertaining, and he’d always enjoyed getting on Semi’s nerves. 

He just didn’t have the drive for it, not with his own thoughts in constant circulation like a pack of sharks. 

Iwaizumi was going to take him to see a movie; an _alien_ movie.

He didn’t know how Iwaizumi even knew he liked aliens. He’d never mentioned it, because he wanted to keep his less mainstream interests to himself until he was certain that Iwaizumi wasn’t going to scoff at them and walk away. He always presented the best parts of himself until he was certain someone could be trusted with the rest.

It seemed Iwaizumi was proving himself worthy of that trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo, looking into the nonexistent camera: “I told Iwaizumi about Oikawa’s freakish love for aliens. I said he should invite him to go see that stupid movie. I’m the best friend any of these losers will ever have and they don’t even appreciate me. Where’s my Best Wingman award? I’m a good person. I should get some recognition.”
> 
> Sawamura, pausing as he walks by: “Are you talking to yourself?” 
> 
> Kuroo, facepalming: “I don’t deserve this.”


	4. Chapter 4

When Friday rolled around, the only thing on Oikawa’s mind was his date with Iwaizumi.

He was scheduled to work from ten to six, a typical shift. He arrived exactly on time, because Oikawa Tooru was never late.

That was the only thing he did right all day.

“Give me that,” snapped Semi, snatching the credit card out of Oikawa’s hand and nudging him aside. He flipped the card over and swiped it through the reader. A green light flashed, indicating success.

Oikawa had tried the same card five times.

“Here you go, sir,” said Semi, pulling on his customer service smile. It was forced, but the customers never seemed to notice. The man took his card and his bag with a nod and Semi turned on Oikawa, his face falling flat. “What is wrong with you? You’ve been zoning out all day.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Semi-chan,” said Oikawa breezily. “I’m perfectly fine. And you can hardly say I’ve been like this all day. You’ve only been here for an hour.”

Semi frowned at him. “I’ve been here for three hours. It’s five o’clock.”

“It’s _what?_ ” said Oikawa. He patted at his pockets, searching for his phone, and belatedly remembered he’d stashed it beneath the register. He lunged for it, nearly bashed his forehead against the counter, and checked the time. 

It was 5:03. A pit of anxious dread opened in his stomach.

“Umm, Oikawa?” said Semi, uncertain. “Are you okay?”

“Less than an hour,” said Oikawa hollowly. “In less than an hour Iwaizumi is coming by the store to pick me up and we’re going to see a movie.”

Semi waited for him to continue, but his words had ran dry.

“Isn’t that… a good thing?” asked Semi.

“Yes,” said Oikawa. “It’s great. Fantastic.” He tucked his phone away and slumped over on the counter, much as he’d done a few days prior when Iwaizumi had first asked him on the date. “I’ve never been happier,” said Oikawa. The words were so muffled that he doubted Semi even heard them.

“Someone’s walking up to the register,” said Semi, pushing against Oikawa’s shoulder. “Act like a normal human for a minute.”

Oikawa didn’t think he could pull himself together, so he simply sank down to the floor and sat with his knees pulled against his chest, his forehead pressed against his kneecaps.

Semi rang up the customer, but the interaction was strained. When they left, Semi dropped to his knees in front of Oikawa and shook him. “Hey. Come on, seriously. Talk to me. You’re weirder than usual.”

Oikawa looked up at him. He tried to smile, but his face wouldn’t cooperate. “I’m fine, Semi-chan. Just peachy.”

Semi looked like he wanted to slap him, and if they hadn’t been at work, he might have.

“Shut up, you absolute idiot,” said Semi. “I thought you were happy about going out with the security guard.”

“I am.”

“Then why do you look miserable?” said Semi. “You know you don’t have to date him, right? If you’re not into him then just tell him. Just because you pined after him for a month doesn’t mean you have to like him now.”

Oikawa blinked at him. “Of course I like him.”

Semi sat back on his heels, confused. “Then what’s the problem?”

Oikawa shifted up onto his knees and pressed Semi’s face between his palms. “That _is_ the problem,” he whispered. “I told you before. He’s perfect, Semi-chan. What if he doesn’t like me? What if I’m not good enough for him?”

Semi squinted at him, his face contorted by Oikawa’s hands. “When have you ever not been good enough for anyone?”

“Never. That’s exactly the problem. What if this is the one time I really, really like someone and he doesn’t like me back?”

“If he didn’t like you he wouldn’t have asked you out.”

“Well sure, he likes me now, but what if he changes his mind?”

Someone cleared their throat overhead and they looked up to find Kuroo leaning over the counter, watching them with a raised brow. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Only Oikawa’s mental breakdown,” said Semi, as Oikawa’s hands fell away from his face. 

“Excellent,” said Kuroo. “Those are always fun.” He braced his hands on the counter and hopped over, sprawling into the floor between them. 

“Why are you like this?” snapped Oikawa. “It would have literally taken you six steps to walk around.”

Kuroo leaned away from him. “Oh. You were serious. It’s one of _those_ breakdowns.”

Oikawa slapped his hands over his face and sighed. “I’m going to die alone.”

Kuroo and Semi exchanged a look. Oikawa practically felt the silent conversation passing between them, which was odd. To his knowledge, Kuroo and Semi had barely ever spoken to one another. 

“Is this about Iwaizumi?” said Kuroo.

Oikawa glared at him. He didn’t know if Kuroo had guessed or if he’d somehow gleaned the knowledge from Semi. 

“It is,” Kuroo concluded. “Hey, listen. Iwaizumi’s a good guy, and you… well, most of the time you’re bearable.”

Oikawa’s glare intensified.

“He likes you, idiot,” said Kuroo, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know why, but- oww, dude, I’m trying to help here!”

Oikawa pulled his foot back and said nothing.

Kuroo sighed and leaned back on his hands. “You’ve only known the guy for a month, Oikawa. You don’t know that much about him. Sure, maybe he’s your soulmate, or maybe a year from now you’ll realize you wasted your time on him. I’m not going to sit here and promise it’s going to work out, because maybe it won’t. It’s impossible to know for sure. But I do know you’ll be fine either way. You don’t need him to make you happy. You don’t need anyone but yourself. If he’s not the one, you’ll move on and find someone better. It’s pointless to mope around about something that hasn’t happened yet, and might not ever happen. Just try and be happy, because even if it doesn’t last, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying it while you can.”

Oikawa just stared at him, speechless. He didn’t understand how Kuroo could say something so utterly insightful.

Kuroo nudged his knuckles beneath Oikawa’s chin. “There you go. Cheer up, buttercup.”

That was more like Kuroo. Oikawa slapped him away, but gently. He couldn’t be mad at him. In fact, he found he was significantly less gloomy.

Maybe Kuroo was right. Oikawa adored Iwaizumi, but he’d lived his life up to that point without him. If things didn’t work out, the world wouldn’t end. Oikawa would be disappointed for a while, sure, but he would suck it up and move on, because that’s what Oikawa Tooru did. 

“You know,” said Oikawa, “that’s the least obnoxious thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Coming from someone who lives their life in the most obnoxious way,” said Kuroo, “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

Semi glanced between the pair of them, frowning. “That’s it? That fixed it?”

“What can I say?” said Kuroo. He flicked at his bangs with a grin. “I’m an excellent friend.”

Oikawa didn’t even argue with him. For once he agreed, although he wasn’t about to say that, either.

Another head popped over the counter to stare down at them, this one even wilder than Kuroo’s. 

“Oh?” said Tendou, tilting his head. “Secret meeting?” 

“Ten-chan!” said Oikawa, a grin blooming across his face. “Welcome! Did you drop by to see our dear Semi-chan?”

Semi glared daggers at him.

Tendou seemed taken aback by his enthusiasm, but didn’t shy away from it. He grinned back. “If the secret meeting is too important I can come back later,” said Tendou, his grin sliding toward Semi. 

“No, no!” said Oikawa. He gathered his feet beneath him and sprang upright. “Semi-chan needs to take his break anyway. Go on now, Semi-chan. Don’t keep Ten-chan waiting.”

Semi’s face was aflame. He staggered upright but his scowl remained on the floor. “Whatever.”

“Take your time!” sang Oikawa, as Semi circled the counter and started toward the door with Tendou on his heels. “Have a good break! Use protection!”

Kuroo cackled, loud and unattractive. Tendou turned to look back at Oikawa, grinning, but Semi seized him by the sleeve and yanked him forward.

“You should lay off him, Oikawa,” said Kuroo through his stretched grin. “The poor guy’s gonna catch fire.”

“It’s good for him,” said Oikawa, propping a hip against the counter and folding his arms. “He needs to accept his blossoming feelings for Ten-chan. I’m only helping him along.”

“He’s going to be looking for a new job.”

“He won’t,” said Oikawa. “He loves it here.”

Kuroo snorted. “Sure, whatever you say.”

“What are you doing up here, anyway?” said Oikawa. “You hardly ever crawl out of your second-floor cave except to get food.”

“Oh, you know,” said Kuroo with a casual shrug. “Just wanted to walk around a little. Figured I’d pass by and see how you’re doing.”

He sounded calm and collected, but Oikawa didn’t miss the tightness of his eyes.

With a sigh, Oikawa dropped back to the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of him. “What?”

“What do you mean?” said Kuroo, innocently.

Oikawa was unconvinced. “Tell me.”

Kuroo’s face held out for about ten seconds. Then his eye twitched and he slumped over his knees with a groan. “I’m hiding.”

“From…?”

“Sawamura,” mumbled Kuroo. “I think he thinks I’m an idiot.”

“He wouldn’t be wrong,” said Oikawa. “What did you do now?”

“Nothing in particular,” said Kuroo, dodging the question. “I just… he catches me doing stupid stuff, you know? That’s the only time he seems to be around. He never walks by when I look smart. I always embarrass myself in front of him. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Oikawa sighed and patted Kuroo’s nightmare nest of hair. “The only thing wrong with you is your hairstyle, Tetsu-chan. Who knows, maybe Sawamura is into bedhead.”

“Not helping.”

Oikawa smiled a little, but wiped it away when Kuroo looked up at him. “The only thing I know about Sawamura is that he could crush a human skull with his thighs. I’ve never even had a full conversation with him. I do know you’re trying too hard to impress him, and that’s your problem. It’s okay to be yourself sometimes, Tetsu-chan. If you’re always putting on a mask then no one is ever going to like you for who you really are.”

Kuroo stared at him, his mouth slightly open. His eyebrows rose, slowly, and he said, “Was that actual advice? From _you?_ Do you need to see a doctor?”

Oikawa kicked him again. “Shut up. You know I’m right.”

“Well sure, maybe, but… I never expected to hear something like that from you, of all people.”

“How dare you,” said Oikawa, lifting his chin. “I’m perceptive and intelligent. Of course I can give good advice. You shouldn’t be surprised.”

Kuroo continued staring, and Oikawa sighed.

“Aka-chan told me that once,” admitted Oikawa, absentmindedly fiddling with his hair. “Back when I was trying to impress Iwa-chan. He said it in a very rude way, but he was right. Iwa-chan didn’t like me when I was pretending, only when I was real.”

“That’s surprisingly insightful,” said Kuroo. “Thanks, Oikawa.”

Oikawa waved him off. “It’s no problem. Oikawa-san is always happy to help.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes, but didn’t comment. Instead he asked, “Hey, are you okay though? About the Iwaizumi thing?” 

Oikawa almost shrugged off the question, but the intensity of Kuroo’s stare made him pause. He considered it for a moment, thinking back to his brief, overwhelming depression of a few minutes before.

“Yeah,” he finally said. “I think I am.”

“Good,” said Kuroo. He patted Oikawa on the shoulder. “I think you guys are great together. He takes your bullshit really well.”

“You’re the worst, Tetsu-chan.”

“Nah, I can’t be,” said Kuroo. “That honor belongs to you.”

They bickered in the floor for another few minutes, until a customer entered the store and Oikawa had to return to his duties. 

Even when Kuroo left and Oikawa was alone with his thoughts and anxieties, he found himself looking forward to his date rather than dreading it.

For once, Kuroo was right. Oikawa was going to be happy with Iwaizumi while he could, and if things didn’t work out, he would keep his head up and thrive. 

  
  
  
  
  
When Iwaizumi stepped into Aoba Johsai Fashions at exactly six o’clock, he looked like he’d walked right out of Oikawa’s dreams. The rolled-up sleeves of his button-up were tight around his biceps, his dark slacks hugged him in all the right places, and his eyes skipped over everyone else in the store to land directly on Oikawa.

As he strolled up to the counter, Oikawa experienced another static burst of nerves. 

When Iwaizumi smiled, small and brief, those nerves skittered away.

“Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa, leaning his elbows on the counter. “You look dashing.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, but said, “So do you, as usual. Ready to go?”

Oikawa’s heart did a cartwheel. 

Iwaizumi thought he looked nice.

He supposed following Semi’s example and shopping through the new shipments the night before had paid off.

“Of course,” said Oikawa. His fingers skimmed along the counter as he stepped around and emerged onto the sales floor. “Semi-chan!” he called, catching Semi’s attention from across the room. “I’m leaving! Call me if you need anything. But it would be great if you don’t need anything.” 

Semi waved him off and turned back to resume his conversation with a customer. 

Oikawa and Iwaizumi walked to the theater side-by-side, trading casual conversation that came easily. Despite Oikawa’s minor breakdown of an hour before, he found his mood soaring just from being close to Iwaizumi.

He didn’t know what he’d been worrying about. Everything was going to be fine.

“Want any snacks?” asked Iwaizumi when they’d stepped into the lobby, nodding toward the counter.

Oikawa hummed, considering. “Not really. Maybe a drink.”

“Sure,” said Iwaizumi. “Whatever you want.”

“Are you buying?”

Iwaizumi folded his arms with a huff. “Obviously. I’m the one who asked you out. Of course I’m buying.”

“So romantic, Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa. He grazed his hand along Iwaizumi’s arm, drifting over the hard line of his bicep, before heading toward the snack counter.

Oikawa hoped the faint flush warming his face went unnoticed.

Before they made it to the main theater, Oikawa spotted a familiar face among the crowd. “Iwa-chan, look! It’s Aka-chan. Let’s go say hi.”

“We probably shouldn’t. They look like they’re on a date.”

“Yes, but he probably doesn’t know that, so it doesn’t count. Come on, just really quick – Aka-chan!” he raised his voice and seized Iwaizumi’s wrist, tugging him through the crowd. 

Akaashi turned and caught sight of Oikawa, and he did not look pleased.

That was fine. Oikawa had expected nothing less.

“Hello, Oikawa-san,” said Akaashi flatly. The words were polite but his tone was not. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“You didn’t tell me you were coming, Aka-chan,” said Oikawa, faking a pout. Iwaizumi pulled his arm free of Oikawa’s grip and he let it go. “Even after I told you Iwa-chan was bringing me.”

“Stop calling me that, Trashykawa,” mumbled Iwaizumi.

Oikawa raised a brow at him. Iwaizumi hadn’t expressed displeasure with the nickname since their first date. He didn’t know what the problem was now, but he chose to gloss it over with a smile. “You know you love it, Iwa-chan. This is Aka-chan and Boku-chan.”

Akaashi corrected him and offered proper introductions, which Iwaizumi returned. Oikawa didn’t even listen. He watched Iwaizumi from the corner of his eye, looking for any hint of irritation. He appeared fine. His brows weren’t even tucked together in his usual half-scowl. He seemed calm, comfortable.

Oikawa barely tuned in to hear Iwaizumi say, “I apologize for Oikawa.”

“What?”

“There’s no need,” said Akaashi. “I’m used to him.”

“Rude, Aka-chan! And you were being so nice to me last week!” snapped Oikawa. He had to fake his indignation, because he couldn’t truly be offended when Iwaizumi was clearly suppressing a smile.

“You were less obnoxious last week,” said Akaashi. “It was nice to meet you, Iwaizumi-san, but if you’ll excuse us-”

“No, wait!” said Oikawa, taking a step to the side to block Akaashi’s exit. “Since we’re all here, let’s sit together! It can be a double-”

“Goodbye, Oikawa-san,” said Akaashi, and it was the loudest Oikawa had ever heard him speak. He turned and started in the opposite direction, Bokuto throwing a glance back before following.

Oikawa smirked after them. “Young love,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “Aren’t they adorable?”

“Did you only walk over here to try and make them uncomfortable?”

Oikawa shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Really, Oikawa?”

“If you knew some of the things Akaashi has done to me, I would have your full support.”

Iwaizumi snorted and nodded toward the tall archway that led to the theaters. “C’mon.”

Oikawa walked along beside him, stopping only when they’d entered their designated theater. They paused in the doorway, scanning the seats beyond.

“Where do you want to sit?” asked Iwaizumi.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Oikawa airily. “Wherever you’d like.”

The room was rather dark, but still he saw Iwaizumi’s flat stare. “You want to sit on the front row, don’t you?”

Oikawa smiled, hopeful. “Can we?”

Iwaizumi shook his head, but gestured toward the front of the room. Oikawa went with a spring in his step. It may have been too early to tell, but he thought this might already be the best date of his life. 

They were a little early for the movie. Silent ads rolled across the screen, the only sound the buzz of their fellow moviegoers’ conversations. When they’d settled in and Oikawa had wasted a few seconds sipping at his drink – which tasted better because Iwaizumi had bought it – he said, “Hey, Iwa-chan?”

“Hmm?”

“Why is it that you don’t mind being called that right now but you told me to stop five minutes ago?”

Iwaizumi looked over at him, his cheeks puffy from a mouthful of popcorn. He swallowed and said, “What?”

“You told me not to call you Iwa-chan anymore.”

“Oh,” said Iwaizumi. He frowned and shoved another handful of popcorn in his mouth, thinking as he chewed. “It’s just embarrassing when you say it in front of people. Especially people I don’t know.”

Oikawa tilted his head. “Iwa-chan was embarrassed?”

“I didn’t say that,” argued Iwaizumi, though that was exactly what he’d said. “It’s just… I don’t mind it, I guess.” He stared down at his bag of popcorn to avoid looking at Oikawa. “Not when it’s us.” He glanced up, eyes suddenly sharp. “And you were being weird, so that made it worse.”

“I was not.”

“Yeah, you were,” said Iwaizumi. “You were acting like you did when we first met. All self-important and… and _pompous_.”

“Who knew Iwa-chan had such a big vocabulary,” teased Oikawa. 

Iwaizumi flicked a piece of popcorn at him.

“I have a reputation to uphold,” said Oikawa. 

“A reputation as a royal jerk,” said Iwaizumi.

“Rude. At least I’m not such a brute that I can’t let my date call me cute names in public.”

Iwaizumi slapped a hand on top of Oikawa’s head and ruffled his hair. Oikawa made a sound of protest and tried to smack him away, but Iwaizumi only stretched his arm across the back of Oikawa’s seat, shifting closer.

Heat flooded Oikawa’s face and he was grateful for the darkness of the theater. He subtly fumbled with the arm rest between them, pushing it up and out of the way so they could sit more comfortably. Iwaizumi’s arm dropped, settling around his shoulders instead of across the seat, and Oikawa could have melted into the floor.

This was what he’d wanted since the first time he’d seen Iwaizumi, and it was better than he’d expected. Iwaizumi smelled clean, like fresh laundry detergent with an undertone of crisp cologne. He was warm and sturdy, and when Oikawa peeked over at him, a flash of bright light on the screen revealed just a touch of color across his cheeks.

As the lights went out completely and the opening previews began, Oikawa knew he had at least been right about one thing during his earlier breakdown.

Iwaizumi Hajime was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a little early, but the last chapter might be later than usual. I'll post it before August is over though, I promise!


	5. Chapter 5

“It was perfect,” said Oikawa with a sigh, propping his chin in his hand. “I’ve been on a lot of dates, but none of them were like that.”

“Is that so,” said Kuroo, staring at his phone rather than Oikawa.

Oikawa hummed contently. “Everything went right. He’s such a gentleman. After the movie was over he let me talk about it for twenty solid minutes before he told me to shut up. And even then it didn’t sound mean, he was _smiling_.”

“Unbelievable.”

“Right? He even asked if I wanted to go out again. He isn’t sick of me, Tetsu-chan. He actually _likes_ me.”

“Unbelievable.”

“You just said that!”

“Yeah, well.” Kuroo shrugged. “Someone liking you is also unbelievable.”

Oikawa shoved the table, knocking it into Kuroo’s knees. “If you’re going to be rude you can at least look at me while you’re doing it.”

Kuroo glanced up at him, face scrunched in a wince as he kicked the table back where it belonged. “I’m listening. Iwaizumi is perfect, you’re in love, blah blah blah. I hear you.”

“Who are you texting that’s so much more important than me, anyway?” asked Oikawa, craning his neck to try and catch a glimpse of Kuroo’s phone screen.

Kuroo slapped a hand over an incoming message, shielding it from view. “None of your business.”

Oikawa sat back and folded his arms, waiting. 

Kuroo checked the text, his mouth curving into a grin. He tapped back a reply, dropped his phone onto the table, and said in a rush, “It’s Sawamura. He’s finally started texting me back. Normally, I mean. He was texting me back before, but it was only after I’d sent him like ten messages. I think he’s coming around.”

Oikawa frowned at him. “You’re amazing, Tetsu-chan.”

Kuroo beamed. “Thanks!”

“Not what I meant,” said Oikawa flatly. “It’s amazing that you look like _that_ , like you might actually be cool, and yet you’re the biggest moron to ever walk the earth.”

“All I heard you say is that I look cool,” surmised Kuroo. “Everything else was just static.”

“I said you’re a moron.”

“Oops, didn’t hear you,” said Kuroo, snatching up his phone as the screen lit up. “I’m a little distracted here.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes just as a third member joined their table. Akaashi placed his food in front of the vacant seat with care, glancing at the pair of them as he sat. “Kuroo-san, Oikawa-san.”

“Good morning, Aka-chan,” said Oikawa with a grin. “You looked like you were having a good time with Boku-chan last night. I heard it got even better after the movie.”

Akaashi’s eyes cut to Kuroo like the slash of a lethal blade. “Where did you hear that?” 

Kuroo glanced up from his phone, belatedly realizing that he was on the receiving end of Akaashi’s death glare. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have to. Bo won’t stop going on about how much fun he had.” The corner of his mouth tilted upward along with a single eyebrow. “This is just a guess, but I don’t think it was the movie he was excited about.”

Akaashi was unimpressed. He snapped the lid off of his lunch and dug into it, pretending Kuroo was no longer at the table. “I presume your date went well, Oikawa-san? You seem to be in good spirits.”

A response was already on Oikawa’s tongue when Kuroo spoke over him.

“Couldn’t have been that great,” said Kuroo, leering at Oikawa from across the table. “He didn’t even get a goodnight kiss.”

Oikawa slapped a hand against his chest, gasping in offense. “How dare you.”

“Am I wrong?” said Kuroo.

Oikawa stuttered over his answer until Akaashi spoke up to spare him the trouble.

“What Oikawa-san did on his date is none of your business,” said Akaashi, plucking a piece of sushi out of his plastic box. “Perhaps if you had a relationship of your own you would be less concerned with his.”

Oikawa blinked, taken aback by the sharpness of the jab. He glanced at Kuroo, who looked as if he’d just been slapped.

Akaashi chomped down on his sushi as if he’d said nothing out of the ordinary.

After a strained moment, Kuroo said, “I don’t know if I will ever recover from that.”

Akaashi didn’t even look at him. “I’m sure you’ll live.”

“You’re cold, Akaashi.”

Akaashi shrugged and continued eating.

“Anyway,” said Kuroo, returning his attention to Oikawa. “What happened? I thought for sure you’d get a goodnight kiss from your prince charming.”

Oikawa scowled at him, but it wasn’t as sharp as he would’ve liked. As badly as he tried to suppress it, his own uncertainty bubbled in his gut. He covered it with a cheerful, “Excuse you, but Oikawa-san doesn’t kiss and tell. I never said we didn’t kiss.”

“But you didn’t say you did,” said Kuroo, “which means you definitely did not. I don’t care what you say, if you’d kissed Iwaizumi, you would still be bragging about it.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. Remember that one time with the waiter from-”

“If you value your life,” said Oikawa through his teeth, “you will not finish that sentence.”

Kuroo grinned at him, but said nothing more. Akaashi followed the conversation but made no attempt to join in.

“Besides,” said Oikawa, waving off the memory. “He was a stranger. This is _Iwa-chan_. He’s worth ten of anyone else I’ve dated. When he kisses me I’m certainly not telling you about it.”

“ _When_ ,” repeated Kuroo, his grin curling smugly. “Which means it hasn’t happened yet.

“What?” said Oikawa. “That isn’t… you can’t-”

“Save it,” said Kuroo. “Why didn’t you kiss him?”

“I didn’t say-”

“Why didn’t you kiss him?” 

“Tetsu-chan, I don’t want to-”

“ _Why didn’t you kiss him?_ ”

Akaashi sighed. “Please just answer him so he’ll stop asking.”

Oikawa glowered at the pair of them, sinking back in his chair and folding his arms. “I don’t know. We had a great night, but it just… I don’t know. It didn’t feel like the right time.”

It sounded like an excuse, but it was true. Oikawa had thought about it when he and Iwaizumi had parted ways, and Iwaizumi’s stare had lingered on Oikawa like he was thinking about it, too. Neither of them had made a move, and even then Oikawa hadn’t regretted it. A kiss didn’t define the success of a date, no matter what Kuroo said. There was no rulebook for the right way to approach a relationship. Oikawa thought he and Iwaizumi were doing just fine. 

Kuroo and Akaashi exchanged a look.

“What?” snapped Oikawa. “Neither of you were there so you don’t know. When I kiss him it’s going to be perfect. There will be a backdrop of falling stars and the singing of angels.”

Akaashi raised a skeptical brow. “Have you been reading bad poetry in your spare time, Oikawa-san?”

“Shut up,” said Oikawa. He pushed his chair back and stood. “I’m going back to work. Semi-chan and I are doing interviews today.”

“Oh, right!” said Kuroo, sitting up straighter. “You should give Kenma’s friend a shot. He put in an application last week. His name is Hinata. Kind of short, bright hair, a little over-excited about… well, everything.”

“Can he smile without looking constipated?” said Oikawa, cringing as he reflected on Kageyama and Semi. 

“The kid smiles all the time,” said Kuroo. “He’s basically a ray of sunshine.”

“Kageyama would hate him,” said Oikawa. As he pondered over that, a curved smile crept onto his face. “Great. He’s hired.”

  
  
  
  
  
Later that afternoon, when interviews had concluded and Oikawa had drafted a tentative job offer for Hinata Shouyou, he stepped behind the counter to relieve Kageyama of his cashier duties. There were four customers in line and Oikawa didn’t want to expose that many people to Kageyama’s horrendous social skills. Oikawa sent him off to tidy up the store while he rang up the purchases, his smile much more believable than Kageyama’s grimace.

He was too caught up in the work to pay much attention to his surroundings. By the time he realized the last customer in line was not actually a customer, he’d already gotten halfway through his typical greeting.

“Good afternoon, what… Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi stepped up to the counter, his smile smaller than Oikawa’s, but still dazzling. Oikawa’s heart skipped.

It was almost pathetic that a smile alone could affect him like that.

“How’s it going?” said Iwaizumi, scuffing up to the counter. “Got a minute?”

“For you?” asked Oikawa. “I have all the time in the world.”

Iwaizumi scoffed, but Oikawa could have sworn he spotted the first touch of a blush dust his face. “Seriously. Is this a good time?”

Oikawa hummed and glanced around the store. There were a few customers scattered about. Kageyama was near the far wall straightening a messy display. No one was near the counter.

“It’s a great time,” said Oikawa. “What can I help you with?”

“I have something for you,” said Iwaizumi. He hefted a large paper bag onto the counter and nudged it toward Oikawa. 

Oikawa eyed it, his brows rising. “What is it?”

“Open it and find out,” said Iwaizumi, folding his arms. “It won’t bite you.”

Oikawa trusted Iwaizumi, more than was probably healthy for someone he’d only known for a month. Despite that, he unfurled the top of the bag slowly, as if bracing himself for a possible explosion.

“Seriously?” said Iwaizumi, his voice flat. He pushed Oikawa’s cautious hand away and yanked the bag open himself, shoving it closer.

Oikawa leaned forward to peer inside. There was a glimmer from within, reflecting the light overhead. Tentatively, he reached into the bag. 

The object he retrieved was strappy and sparkly, and he didn’t immediately understand why Iwaizumi would bring him a pair of stilettos. Maybe Iwaizumi wanted Oikawa to wear high heels. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would be into that sort of thing, but Oikawa supposed he could accommodate. It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing he’d ever done.

With a flash of insight that was like lightning in a midnight sky, Oikawa understood what he was holding.

He flipped the shoe over and a breath whooshed out of his lungs as he read the label on the bottom of the sole.

_Morino_.

They were the stolen Morino heels.

Oikawa seized the bag and looked inside again. Both pairs were there, still in perfect condition. He blinked up at Iwaizumi, speechless. 

Iwaizumi laughed. “You okay there?”

The shoe tumbled from Oikawa’s hand, thumping back into the bag. Oikawa sprinted around the counter, nearly slid as he rounded the corner, and surged into a direct collision with Iwaizumi.

Despite Oikawa’s size and strength, Iwaizumi didn’t budge. Slamming into him was like hitting a brick wall. It knocked the breath from Oikawa’s lungs, but he didn’t retreat. He slung his arms around Iwaizumi’s waist and embraced him, pressing his face into a broad shoulder.

“You found the Morino heels,” said Oikawa, breathless.

“Not exactly,” said Iwaizumi. His voice was strained, and Oikawa loosened his hold. “The police arrested the shoplifter. It was the same guy both times. They found the shoes when they searched his apartment. Guess he hadn’t found anyone to sell them to yet. An officer called us and I volunteered to pick them up and bring them over.”

“Iwa-chan,” murmured Oikawa. Genuine gratitude unfurled in his chest, fierce and overwhelming. Maybe the police had tracked down the thief, but Iwaizumi had been the one to provide them the information. Even if he had played no part at all, Oikawa would have still been ridiculously grateful to Iwaizumi for just delivering the shoes back to Aoba Johsai. Oikawa was grateful to Iwaizumi for simply existing.

Oikawa took a step back, but he didn’t let go. His fingers curled loosely in the sides of Iwaizumi’s t-shirt. 

Iwaizumi wasn’t even in his uniform. He’d stopped by on his day off.

Affection ran hot in Oikawa’s blood as he looked at Iwaizumi, his stare catching on a soft smile and gentle humor in sharp eyes. 

“I was right,” said Oikawa, barely above a whisper. “You really are perfect.”

Iwaizumi’s brows scrunched together in confusion. Before he could ask, before he could say anything at all, Oikawa looped an arm around Iwaizumi’s neck and kissed him.

Oikawa had told Kuroo that the night before hadn’t been the right time. He stood by that statement, because that time was now.

Iwaizumi was warm; his lips against Oikawa’s, the back of his neck against Oikawa’s forearm, and his ribs where Oikawa still clutched a handful of his shirt. He was shorter, but not by much, and Oikawa hardly had to duck his head to catch a good angle. The kiss lingered, lengthened, and Oikawa realized Iwaizumi wasn’t kissing him back. 

Oikawa broke away, his face hot, to find a startled Iwaizumi staring back at him.

Oikawa licked his lips and Iwaizumi’s eyes dipped to follow the flick of his tongue.

“Sorry,” said Oikawa. “I should’ve asked instead of just-”

“Shut up,” said Iwaizumi. He threaded a hand through Oikawa’s hair and pulled him back in. This time their lips met with more force, and the press of Iwaizumi’s mouth against his own made Oikawa weak. 

Oikawa had been kissed before, but it had been nothing like this.

“Get a room, guys. People can see you.”

Oikawa could have easily ignored the voice, but Iwaizumi pulled away and took a step back. 

Semi frowned at the pair of them, arms folded across his chest. 

A couple of customers had stopped to stare, and though Oikawa was furious at Semi’s interruption, he knew he would be grateful for it later. He didn’t fancy losing his job for making out with Iwaizumi in the middle of the store.

“Envy isn’t a good color on you, Semi-chan,” purred Oikawa. His hand fell away from Iwaizumi’s neck to perch on the sturdy bulk of his shoulder. “Don’t be mad at us because you haven’t gotten to first base with Ten-chan yet.”

Semi’s nose wrinkled. “You’re disgusting.”

“Semi-chan thinks we should get a room,” said Oikawa, smirking at Iwaizumi. “The storage room is a room. I can give you a full tour.”

Oikawa expected a flat denial. His pulse picked up when Iwaizumi seemed to consider it.

“Won’t you get in trouble for that?” asked Iwaizumi.

“Only if _someone_ tells on me,” said Oikawa, looking pointedly at Semi.

Semi seemed unimpressed by the entire conversation. “I don’t care what you do. Just clean up after yourself.” He sidestepped them and walked around the counter, where a customer had cautiously eased past Iwaizumi and Oikawa to make her purchases.

Iwaizumi was a bit flushed. He rubbed at the back of his neck and said, “Maybe we shouldn’t do that. I’m off the clock, but I’d still probably be breaking a rule or two.”

Oikawa sighed. “So responsible, Iwa-chan.”

“We could just hang out later instead,” said Iwaizumi. “When your shift is over.”

Oikawa brightened. They’d just gone out the night before and Iwaizumi was already seeking out Oikawa’s company again. Maybe he wasn’t going to tire of Oikawa, after all. “You want to hang out again tonight?”

“We don’t have to,” said Iwaizumi with a shrug. “Just if you want.”

“I want,” said Oikawa with a grin. “I want very much.”

Iwaizumi shook his head, but before he stepped away, he brushed a wave of hair away from Oikawa’s face.

Somehow that was more intimate than the kiss and Oikawa felt his face would catch fire.

“A new arcade opened up downtown,” said Iwaizumi. “Do you like playing games?”

“I like _winning_ games,” said Oikawa.

Iwaizumi grinned. “You’re on. Can I stop by and pick you up when your shift ends?”

“Only if you’re going to kiss me again.”

Iwaizumi’s grin didn’t waver. “I plan on it.”

More heat surged to Oikawa’s face, and now he was definitely on fire. “Good. I’ll be waiting.”

  
  
  
  
  
When Oikawa had taken Semi’s phone by force and played matchmaker for him and Tendou, he’d been thinking to himself that a date at an arcade was lame. 

Maybe it would have been with anyone else, but Oikawa could have spent a day digging trenches with Iwaizumi and still enjoyed himself. Iwaizumi would probably bury him in one of those trenches because Oikawa would have complained with every other breath, but as long as he was in Iwaizumi’s company, Oikawa felt he would be happy.

The evening at the arcade proved him right. 

The extreme level of their competitiveness scared a group of children and several adults. Oikawa didn’t like to lose, and it seemed Iwaizumi was incapable of giving anything less than one-hundred percent in anything he did. 

At the end of the night Iwaizumi had managed to collect twenty more tickets than Oikawa, who pouted for fifteen minutes. It was just for show. He couldn’t be genuinely upset when Iwaizumi was having such a good time.

Oikawa lingered at the prize counter for much too long, unable to decide which item he wanted to get in exchange for his tickets. Iwaizumi grew impatient, snatched the tickets away from him, and pooled them together to get one bigger prize.

Iwaizumi chose a bright green alien plush and shoved it into Oikawa’s arms without looking at him.

Oikawa kissed him right in the middle of the arcade, with no regard for who may have been watching.

To his pleasure, Iwaizumi kissed him back.

They ended up at Iwaizumi’s apartment an hour later, bundled up on the couch beneath a quilt that Iwaizumi’s grandmother had knitted for him. Oikawa had carefully positioned the alien on the end cushion, and though Iwaizumi had rolled his eyes, he had also smiled.

The tv was on and a monotone newscaster was advising them of construction work throughout the city. Oikawa wasn’t listening, and neither was Iwaizumi. They had curled up together with the intention of watching a movie, but they hadn’t gotten that far.

Iwaizumi’s hand was hot on the side of Oikawa’s neck, his thumb brushing the line of Oikawa’s jaw. He was thick and sturdy but he kissed softly, his mouth moving against Oikawa’s with gentle regard. 

Oikawa had melted over him, one arm draped over Iwaizumi’s waist, one knee hooked around Iwaizumi’s. He was comfortable and warm and had never been more at peace. 

Oikawa caught Iwaizumi’s bottom lip between his teeth, tugged, and settled back with a lazy grin. “I didn’t know a brute like Iwa-chan could be such a good kisser.”

Iwaizumi’s cheeks were a little red, but Oikawa’s face was warm, too.

“I didn’t know kissing you was the best way to shut you up,” said Iwaizumi, rubbing his thumb along Oikawa’s jaw. “I would’ve done it sooner.”

“Well I’m in a very talkative mood,” said Oikawa. He slipped his fingers beneath Iwaizumi’s shirt to stroke them over his side. “What are you going to do about it?”

Iwaizumi shook his head, but he was smiling. He adjusted the quilt higher up on Oikawa’s shoulder, where it had slipped away, and leaned close to kiss him again.

“Hey, Iwa-chan?” said Oikawa a few minutes later, when his breath was short and the taste of Iwaizumi was on his tongue. 

“Hmm?”

“Are we dating?”

Iwaizumi frowned as he considered. “I’m not so sure about that. Sometimes I just like to bring random guys home with me. Don’t read too much into it.”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes. “You’d better be joking, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi smiled, and it was a ray of sunlight on a cloudy day. “Of course we’re dating, idiot. I don’t let just anyone beat me at air hockey.”

Oikawa stared at him. “What?”

“What?”

“You were better at mostly everything else but I won air hockey fair and square.”

“Sure, Oikawa. Keep telling yourself that.”

Oikawa wanted to argue. He’d bragged about that victory all night. There was no way Iwaizumi had gone easy on him. 

He wanted to argue, but Iwaizumi slipped a hand into his hair and kissed him, slow and deep, and Oikawa forgot what he was even planning to argue about.

Oikawa was unashamed to admit Iwaizumi had been right about one thing, at least. Kissing was the best way to shut him up.

They were too big to lay on the couch together but they did it anyway, their legs tangled, chests pressed together, exchanging breath as they traded a few last lazy kisses. Oikawa would have gone further - he would have quite enjoyed going further - but Iwaizumi seemed to be content, and Oikawa couldn’t complain. As long as he could be close to Iwaizumi, soaking in his body heat and tasting his lips, he had nothing to complain about.

“It’s getting late,” Oikawa murmured. He was lying on his side, and if he moved even an inch he would fall off of the couch. Iwaizumi’s arm was curled around his waist, and Oikawa had no doubt that even if he shifted too far by accident, Iwaizumi would catch him. “I should probably go home.”

Iwaizumi made a low mumbling sound. His eyes were closed and the perpetual creases across his brow were gone. A few seconds slipped past before he cracked one eye open. “Stay,” he said. “You don’t work early tomorrow.”

“Iwa-chan wants me to sleep over,” said Oikawa with a grin. He stole a kiss from Iwaizumi’s lips, quick and chaste. “How suggestive.”

Iwaizumi snorted and closed his eyes again. His arm wrapped more tightly around Oikawa’s waist, shifting him closer. “Leave if you want.”

“No, no,” said Oikawa. “If Iwa-chan wants me to stay then I’ll stay. I don’t want to hurt your feelings.”

Iwaizumi’s brows twitched. “I will kick you off of this couch.”

“No, you won’t,” said Oikawa, threading his legs more securely with Iwaizumi’s. “If I go down, I’m taking you with me.”

“You’re not taking me anywhere,” mumbled Iwaizumi, “except to bed. I’m tired. Dealing with you all day was exhausting.”

Oikawa hummed. “You weren’t complaining about it earlier.”

“Not complaining about it now,” said Iwaizumi. “Just saying.”

Oikawa smiled, even though Iwaizumi wasn’t looking. He skimmed a hand up Iwaiuzmi’s arm and let it rest on a sturdy shoulder. “Iwa-chan is going to share his bed with me?” 

Iwaizumi made a grunting sound, but it seemed to be an affirmative. 

Oikawa nudged close for one more kiss, and despite Iwaizumi’s declaration of exhaustion, he kissed him back.

Oikawa remembered a couple of weeks before, when Iwaizumi had been convinced that Oikawa’s attempts at flirting had been a means of ridicule.

There was no way for Iwaizumi to misinterpret his intentions anymore.

Oikawa liked Iwaizumi, more than he’d ever liked anyone, more than he probably should. He hoped to have many future days of falling asleep in Iwaizumi’s bed, or of Iwaizumi falling asleep in his.

That night wasn’t one of those, though. They fell asleep on the couch instead, and Oikawa slept soundly.

At least until two a.m., when he fell off and hit the floor.

After that they migrated to the bed, and the indignation of the fall was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Kurodai segment of this series is in progress, but I've been super short on time lately so I don't know when it will be finished. I'm working on it, though! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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